


A Satinalia Carol

by LarasLandlockedBlues



Series: Just Say Lass [14]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Christmas Crack, Crack, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Ghosts of Christmas, Ghosts of Satinalia technically, Holidays, Humor, Inspired by A Christmas Carol, One Shot, Rated M for language, Satinalia, Self-Aware Christmas Carol, THIS FIC IS PURE CRACK, The Author Regrets Nothing, happy holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 16:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16998219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LarasLandlockedBlues/pseuds/LarasLandlockedBlues
Summary: A mix-up in names leads to a strange night before Satinalia for Abigail - though that doesn't mean she can't have fun finding herself trapped in a classic holiday tale.





	A Satinalia Carol

**Author's Note:**

> I can't gift it to the man who inspired this, but just know this is definitely the result of my husband's encouragement. My casual comment about how I'd like to see a "Self-Aware Christmas Carol" retelling in which the protagonist knows they're trapped in that trope led to him pointing out I should just write it. He even agreed with my wild idea that Abigail might just be the perfect OC for the story.
> 
> And damn it if he wasn't right.
> 
> So here it is - my Modern Thedas AU Abby getting trapped in A Satinalia (Christmas) Carol and knowing what's going on the entire time, much to the ~~frustration~~ amusement of the Ghosts of Past, Present, and Yet to Come (a few familiar faces who just seemed oh so fitting for this retelling, hehe).
> 
> Hope you enjoy, this fic is pure crack. Happy Satinalia!
> 
> xx,  
> Lara

It was the best time of the year.

Or at least, that was Abby’s point of view.

Sitting at her desk, she cranked the Satinalia songs a little bit louder, singing along slightly out of tune as she answered emails.

“What is that _sweater_ , Snazzy?” Varric grumbled as he walked by, slowing as he stared open-mouthed at the black sweater she wore. Twinkling magelights on a large Satinalia tree decorated with colored pompoms and small, jingling ornaments created an eye-catching effect, just as she had hoped they would.

“It’s Satinalia tomorrow, Varric, an ugly sweater was _necessary_ ,” she told him. When he rolled his eyes and shook his head, she merely winked. “Come on, it’s the best time of the year.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so they say,” he agreed, and he continued on his way.

Her cheerful mood had gripped her all day, thinking of the following day, of the Satinalia Parade and how the weather was actually predicting snow. Memories of her early years were coming back to her, a full-blown nostalgia overcoming her as she remembered even her very young life in Kirkwall before they’d moved to the Imperium. Now, being back in the city to see the large, annual parade - and getting to cover it for the newspaper - was more than a little exciting.

“Hey, Abby,” a voice called from behind her.

She spun in her chair to face the voice, smiling when she saw the way Jim chuckled when he saw her sweater. “What’s up?” she asked as the photographer stopped beside her desk.

“How long is the parade tomorrow? I - I only ask because it’s my first Satinalia with the girlfriend, and I’m meeting her parents,” Jim told her rather sheepishly.

Abby pursed her lips, considering for a moment. “You know, I can probably handle photos tomorrow,” she said with a shrug. “It’s not a problem, why don’t you just focus on making a good impression.”

“Really?” he asked, eyebrows raised high. “Thanks! That’s - wow, I really appreciate it.”

“No problem. And don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s made note that I took the photos so I don’t ruin your lovely reputation with my horrible framing and lighting,” she assured him with a wink.

“Cheers,” he agreed with a laugh, and continued on his way.

By the time she left work that evening she had accepted at least three invitations for the holiday weekend, agreeing to make cookies or bring cocktails for each. Whistling a little holiday tune, she bundled her wool coat more closely around herself and began to make her way home. Not far from The Herald’s offices she was stopped by two people collecting donations for the Kirkwall City soup kitchen. She was glad she had gotten cash out for something else and then ended up not needing it, and she happily pushed the whole wad of it into their hands, wishing them a Happy Satinalia before she walked away.

Rylen had already texted her to tell her that he’d likely be all night, his caseload suddenly heavy with all the family incidents that happened this time of year. She’d sent him a few Satinalia memes in response, and hadn’t heard anything back, which was about par for the course when she responded that way. She could see him now, rolling his eyes at her exuberance about the holiday, the way he groused under his breath every time she playfully held mistletoe over their heads to get him to kiss her.

She sighed when she stopped before her door, fishing for her keys in the depths of her purse. A gleam around the peephole caught her eye, and for a moment she stared at it, trying to figure out if she really had seen a face or an eye as she thought she had. With a shrug she continued looking for her keys, finding them at last and opening her door.

She needed to make cookies, and plan balancing the parade coverage with all of her other plans that weekend, but she found she was exhausted. Despite it being the holidays she had gotten home later than normal, and after a quick dinner with a large glass of wine she ended up falling asleep on the sofa.

It seemed hardly any time at all that she had been asleep before a loud, unearthly metal rattling sounded. Jolting awake she sat up, looking around wildly as she snapped her fingers and conjured magelight to her so she could see through the inky darkness of the living room.

“Ry?” she called.

But instead an echoing, eerie moaning sounded along with the continual clanking of chains. Abby’s heart raced as she looked around the room, readying her magic to defend herself against whatever intruder was making such a racket.

“Go ahead and show yourself, asshole,” she called out, holding her magelight higher.

“Abigaaaaaail,” a rasping moan came.

“Who’s asking?” she challenged loudly, raising her other hand and conjuring ice between her fingers.

“Abigaaaaaaail,” the ghostly wail repeated with a warble.

“That’s getting real old real fast,” she snapped. “Fasta vass, show yourself!”

A tall, silvery white woman slowly appeared and made her way forward, looking weighed down by the ethereal linked chain hanging around her neck and wrapped around her arms. An echo of rattling accompanied her steps, and she was staring at Abby wide-eyed.

“Abigail?” the ghost asked, no longer sounding as eerie as it peered at her with a frown on its face.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asked in exchange, recoiling on the sofa as she tried to accept the sight of the ghost standing behind the sofa.

“Jane Marley,” the ghost answered. “Your business partner - doomed to an eternity of -”

“I’m sorry, my what now?” Abby interrupted with an incredulous laugh. “I’m a journalist, darling, I’ve never had a business partner named Jane Marley.”

“I - well - _ahem_ \- know that tonight you will be visited by three ghosts,” the spirit of Jane Marley continued after a moment's hesitation, raising her chain-bedecked arms for dramatic effect. “Change your ways, Abigail - or end up a tortured soul like me!”

Abby raised her eyebrows, still torn between blasting the thing with Winter’s Grasp and laughing. Perhaps it was a trick of the Fade, perhaps she was actually just dreaming. And so she merely shrugged and said, “all right,” before the ghost slowly faded away with one last echoing, pathetic wail and shake of its chains.

Silence returned to the room, but she waited several long moments before she finally pushed herself off the sofa. She kept the magelight in her hand as she made her way up to bed, grumbling to herself.

Fasta vass, as if the Fade wasn’t weird enough without sending her ‘ghosts.’

 

* * *

 

Once she had fallen back asleep, it again seemed hardly any time at all before Abby was awoken by a crash.

“Oh Maker - every time,” an accented voice muttered.

Abby lit the room with her magic, sitting up and looking around, more than a little irritated to be interrupted and pulled from slumber once more.

“Who is it this time?” she grumbled.

“Pardon me, I - I didn’t mean to knock over that lamp,” the voice answered. A sound like the clearing of a throat followed the words, and finally a figure in a poufy skirt stepped forward. The gold satin of the dress she wore reflected the light from Abby’s magic, as did the dark sheen of her hair as she straightened herself to her full height and held her head regally in the air. “I am the Ghost of Satinalia Past -”

“Andraste’s _tits_ you have got to be kidding me,” Abby exclaimed, shaking her head as she stared at the figure before her. “Am I dreaming?”

“What? No - I’ve been sent, Abigail Hendricks -” the woman began again.

“Henderson,” Abby corrected.

“What?”

“Abigail Henderson, not Hendricks,” Abby insisted.

“I - oh dear, that can’t be right,” the figure murmured, and she conjured a wooden board mounted with a candle and quill, looking it over. Her eyes widened and she stared at the slip of parchment for a moment before she raised her gaze to Abby’s once more. “You’re - you’re not Abigail Hendricks?”

“Nope,” Abby answered, and she laughed. “Is this seriously - A Satinalia Carol? Really? This is actually happening?”

“I - oh Maker, this is a disaster,” the Ghost of Satinalia Past muttered. “I don’t know how we made the mistake, but - oh dear.”

“Well, I mean - I’m not who you’re looking for, so - um, have a good night. Door’s over there,” Abby pointed lazily as she said it.

But the Ghost made no move to leave.

“What?” Abby asked, raising an eyebrow.

“The thing is - once we’re here - I have to go through with it,” the Ghost explained, wringing her hands slightly after the board she held suddenly disappeared. “If we don’t, we don’t get paid.”

“What in like - ghost coin or Fade gold?” Abby scoffed, laughing as she watched the way the Ghost grimaced.

“In a way,” she said simply, shrugging helplessly. “I - I hate to be a bother, but if I could just - get this over with?”

“You’re not serious,” Abby deadpanned, staring at the Ghost of Satinalia Past.

“Unfortunately I am,” the Ghost answered. “I mean, it may not be your life, Ms. Hansen -”

“Henderson,” Abby grumbled.

“Right, yes, Ms. Henderson - but still, you might learn something valuable.”

Abby arched her neck, wondering at her luck and still debating whether or not this really was some trick of the Fade. Still, if it was, it was far more entertaining than what it normally came up with. Reliving ‘A Satinalia Carol’ could at least be amusing.

“Fine,” Abby finally agreed with a heavy sigh. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Oh, thank you, Ms. Hamil -”

“Henderson,” Abby interrupted to correct yet again. “Just call me Abby, would you?”

“Yes, all right,” the Ghost said. “Well, then, Abby, shall we?”

“I mean - I guess?” Abby answered with a shrug.

What choice did she have, after all?

The Ghost seemed hesitant for a moment and then forced a bright smile, clapping her hands together so that the room shifted and changed. Abby felt as if she twirled, and looking down found herself wearing a shimmering, cloud blue satin dress.

“Seriously?” she said, tugging slightly at the full skirt as she curled her lip.

The Ghost of Satinalia Past merely shrugged and offered a smile before she gestured Abby forward. Looking around Abby found herself on the grounds of what appeared to be a boarding school, though it was deserted except for a solitary young girl.

“Abigail Hendricks -” the Ghost began dramatically.

“Oh is that her?” Abby asked, hurrying forward to peer at the young girl sitting on the bench. “Huh. She looks normal.”

The Ghost closed her eyes for a moment as if taking a deep breath, and then continued. “Your early childhood at Our Lady Andraste’s was lonely -”

“Do you still have to give the spiel too?” Abby interrupted, folding her arms as she slowly wandered around the slightly foggy grounds. “I mean it’s not my life, you don’t need to help me relive it to learn some big lesson.”

“I - I need the practice,” the Ghost admitted.

“What, is this your first gig?” Abby raised an eyebrow.

“I only just recently got promoted,” the Ghost replied almost sheepishly.

“From what, Assistant to the Ghost of Satinalia Past?” Abby quipped, but she buried her laughter behind a hand when the Ghost looked at her with wide eyes. “Oh. Okay, then, um - ooh, yes, remind me of my horribly lonely childhood at Our Lady Andraste’s, or whatever.”

The Ghost huffed a sigh and shook her head. “Forget it,” she grumbled, and clapped her hands.

They were at a party now, standing near a young woman who resembled the child they had just left behind in another memory. A young man stood before her, heatedly arguing with her.

“Do you guys like, work to find someone whose life mirrors um - what was his name,” Abby snapped her fingers for a moment as she tried to remember, hating that she was suddenly blanking his name. “Um - Scrooge!” She held up a triumphant finger as she remembered. “Ebenezer Scrooge. I mean seriously, this other Abigail chick seems to have had like, the same life from what I remember of the story…”

She trailed off, again noticing a furtive look on the Ghost’s face.

“Oh, was that - was that the point?” Abby speculated, grimacing slightly.

“I thought for my first haunting it might be - quaint,” the Ghost confessed.

“Instead you ended up ruining my night, so, uh, awkward...” Abby trailed off again, then reached out and clapped the Ghost on her ruffle-clad shoulder. “I mean nice first attempt. Truly inspiring, but - would have probably been better on the right person.”

The Ghost let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “I’ve made a mess of this,” she sighed. “Well, no use lingering, I suppose, if you’re not the right person.”

“Wait, I want to try something -” Abby began, but again the scene shifted and she found herself back in her bedroom, once more in the satin pajamas she had been wearing.

“I’m terribly sorry about the mix up,” the Ghost apologized, dragging her fingers across her brow. “Still, though, I appreciate you letting me stay and at least practice teleporting to the memories, that was - that was helpful.”

“Um, sure, anytime,” Abby said.

The Ghost raised a quizzical eyebrow at her. “Really?”

“Maker, no,” Abby answered with a snorted laugh. “Can I go back to sleep now?”

“Of course,” the Ghost said, and she headed for the door.

“Wait, if you showed up does that mean -”

“Happy Satinalia, Abigail Handerson!”

“Henderson!” Abby called after the Ghost.

For several moments she simply stared at where the Ghost had disappeared, and then fell back on her pillows with a huff. Hoping that now that they knew their mistake she wouldn’t be visited by another wayward Ghost of Satinalia, she closed her eyes and hoped for the best.

 

* * *

 

“OOOoooooOOOOoooo!”

“Fucking Dumat, not again,” Abby groused as a wavering, almost playful sounding wail pulled her from slumber.

When she opened her eyes she was greeted by light blue-grey eyes above hers, and let out a shriek. The pale, red-haired Ghost above her burst into tittering laughter as she straightened.

“Andraste’s tits, that was _not_ funny,” Abby scolded, placing a hand over her heart as she sat up.

“It was a little funny,” the Ghost told her in her lilting voice. “Have I been told correctly? You are not the one we sought tonight?”

“Oh, so you know it’s a mistake and came anyway? Couldn’t you go find Abigail Hendricks and at least start her halfway through?” Abby muttered. She swung her legs over the edge of the bed, resigning herself to what was likely about to happen.

“It doesn’t work that way, sorry,” the Ghost answered with a shrug. “Poor Past, she really fumbled this one.”

“Yeah, I think your system’s broken, you should have it looked at,” Abby quipped as she stretched. “Let’s get this over with.”

“I am the Ghost of Satinalia Present -”

“And you’re here to show me the error of Abigail Hendricks’ ways,” Abby finished for her. “Yeah, yeah. Can I at least wear like - an absolutely horrendous Satinalia sweater this time if we have to do a costume change?”

The Ghost tittered again, a gleam coming into her eyes as she snapped her fingers. Again the room shimmered and dissolved until they found themselves in a raucous crowd. Glittering and brightly lit Satinalia decorations covered the room, everyone wearing a tacky and over-the-top ugly sweater. They were talking, dancing, and drinking, looking as if they were having the time of their lives.

“Ooh, this is more my speed,” Abby said, eagerly taking in the revelries of the room. She glanced down at what she was wearing, pleased to see a positively atrocious Satinalia sweater and leggings instead of a poufy dress. “Perfect! So is this a party that other Abigail is supposed to be at?”

“No, just an example to her of what the holiday should be,” the Ghost answered. “Family, friends, happiness, joyous celebration _together_ -”

“So then we don’t have anything important to do here?” Abby suggested hopefully. “Great. I had something I wanted to try but Past whisked me away before I could.”

“Wait -”

But Abby ignored the Ghost and hurried off through the crowd, feeling as if she was gliding more than walking. She found a table overflowing with bottles of wine and other liquors, and eagerly drifted forward.

“Hey, can I drink the wine?” she called to the Ghost, looking over the crowd.

The Ghost put her forehead in one hand, shaking her head and looking as if she was muttering under her breath.

“Ooh can they see this?” Abby said as she picked up a bottle of wine. “Does it look like it’s floating through the air? OOOoooooo,” she pretended to wail as she held the bottle through the air, bobbing it up and down and watching to see if anyone around her noticed.

When no one seemed to, she lowered the bottle and pouted.

“Damn, that’s a shame,” she muttered, but then shrugged and undid the screw top on the bottle. Taking a long pull she was pleased to find that she _could_ actually drink the wine, and she carried it back over to stand beside the Ghost.

“Having fun?” the Ghost asked, sounding as if she was trying to suppress laughter.

“I mean you pulled me out of bed, I may as well try to enjoy myself,” Abby said with a shrug. As she took another long gulp of wine she glanced around the room, then noticed part of the crowd taking a group photo. She nearly choked on her wine, giggling as she grabbed the Ghost’s hand and pulled her their way. “Think we can ghost-photobomb this picture? Come on!”

“We have a schedule -” the Ghost tried to protest.

“I mean does it really matter? You already fucked up the name, what’s it matter if you’re a little behind schedule too?” Abby pointed out.

She managed to guide the Ghost with her to stand at the edge of the photo and made a face while she held up the bottle of wine. To her surprise, the Ghost beside her also made a face, giggling as soon as the picture was taken.

“I can’t decide which would be funnier, us showing up in the photo or just this floating bottle of wine at the edge,” Abby mused as she contemplated the bottle she held.

“Well, now that that’s over with,” the Ghost said, trying to regain her serious expression as she smoothed the simple lilac dress she wore. “Shall we?”

“Will the wine come with me?” Abby asked.

The Ghost of Satinalia Present didn’t answer, instead snapping her fingers so that again the room reformed around them.

“Damn, it didn’t,” Abby groused as soon as their new surroundings materialized and she found her hand empty. “Ugh, fine, let’s get the boring part over with.”

“I suppose there isn’t much to say here, you don’t know these people,” the Ghost said, pursing her lips.

Abby looked at the small crowd gathered around a table, everything about the room giving off a threadbare, yet still cozy, feel. A frown came to her as she looked over the gathering, the meager selection of food on the table, and a small boy who coughed every so often.

“Oh you’ve got to be - there’s even a Tiny Tim?” Abby asked indignantly, gesturing at the sickly young boy.

The Ghost simply shrugged. “The other Abigail didn’t give out bonuses this year, decided to keep it as profit for her business -”

“And of course now Tiny Tim over there is going to kick the bucket,” Abby finished for her. With a groan she arched her neck, hands on her hips as she considered. “Wait, what happens since you all messed up and brought me here instead?”

After thinking for a moment the Ghost shrugged. “I suppose Abigail Hendricks won’t change her ways.”

“Wow, you really shit the bed,” Abby pointed out. But she looked over the family before her, still frowning.

An idea suddenly coming to her, she raced out of the room and the small house, stopping in front of it as her eyes wandered in search of the house number. Once she’d found it she glanced around for the street, repeating both together until she felt certain she had them memorized.

“Well, I should get you back I suppose,” the Ghost said, appearing suddenly behind Abby. With a third snap of her fingers the street dissolved, returning them to Abby’s bedroom once more.

“There’s going to be another one of you, isn’t there?” Abby grumbled as she sank onto the edge of her bed.

The Ghost of Satinalia Present smiled, nodding before she winked. “Don’t worry, Abigail, it’s almost over. Happy Satinalia!”

“Oh sure, the happiest,” Abby grumbled, waving the Ghost off as she climbed back into bed, mind racing.

 

* * *

 

Glowing purple light suddenly illuminated the room as it filled with fragrant smoke, a deep chuckle echoed as if in a cavernous Chantry, and a shadow grew across the ceiling.

“Lemme guess, Ghost of Satinalia Future or Yet to Come or whatever?” Abby called out. She was sitting up in bed, and glanced at the clock resting on her bedside table. “Did you time this to be fashionably late or something?”

An audible, exaggerated sigh sounded from the smoke, and a figure swaggered forward, finally revealing himself. “I’d heard you were troublesome, I hoped maybe at least you would appreciate a little pizzazz,” the man griped. He brushed at the twirled ends of his moustache before he swept into a mocking bow. “Ghost of Satinalia Yet to Come, at your service.”

“Not-Abigail-Hendricks at yours,” Abby greeted him in return as she slipped out of bed.

“Yes, they told me about that little mix-up as well,” he told her with a grimace. “Well, shall we get on with it then, so that you can return to your I-Love-Satinalia-and-Wish-Ghosts-Would-Leave-Me-the-Voids-Alone slumber?”

Abby giggled and nodded. “Ooh, this is the death one, right? Give me something gothic and outrageous to wear. At least to make it a _little_ fun.”

The Ghost smirked as he raised one ring-bedecked hand and snapped his fingers with a flourish. The room shifted and dissolved into a foggy graveyard, and they faced a small funeral of only a few people all looking around themselves as if they wished to be anywhere else. Looking down, Abby found herself in a black velvet corset dress, fluttery black lace around her wrists, and when she reached up to her head she found she was wearing a black pillbox hat with mesh and lace hanging over her face.

“Perfect,” she declared with a smile. “So, this is totally the other Abigail’s funeral, right?”

“At least you know your literature,” the Ghost agreed. “What Past was thinking trying to mirror the story so closely…”

“Hey at least it’s fun for me, considering,” Abby told him, and she took a few gliding steps forward to look at the people attending the funeral.

As a few of them passed the open coffin, they glanced around and surreptitiously took one of the other Abigail’s shiny, gold trinkets or jewelry to quickly stuff into their pockets.

“That suuuuuucks,” Abby said, then grimaced when a laugh escaped her. “I’m sorry, I just - why aren’t those people getting a visit too? They’re clearly terrible. Do you guys have like a whole department that does this every Satinalia?”

“Something like that,” the Ghost answered. He was watching the funeral with almost bored detachment, but after a moment he sighed and shook his head. “What a waste, considering the mistake. I think we could have done some good for Ms. Hendricks.”

Abby pursed her lips, watching as the attendees of the funeral hurried away without looking back. Despite the fact that it all wasn’t for her, she couldn’t help but feel mildly affected by everything she had been shown by the Ghosts. Although, mostly she felt guilt that their well-meaning intentions had been wasted on her.

“There’s the other funeral, over there, which I’m supposed to show you - her,” the Ghost mused.

“It’s the one for Tiny Tim or whoever though, isn’t it,” Abby speculated, and the Ghost gave an affirmative hum. “Yeah, I don’t need to see that. I’m bummed out enough already.”

“Well, shall we get a move on, then?” the Ghost suggested.

“Sure, after all - it’s not my funeral,” Abby deadpanned, holding the Ghost’s grey gaze for a moment.

He merely rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he turned away from her.

“Oh come on, that was a good one!” Abby called after him before she hurried to catch up. “That deserved at least a sensible chuckle.”

But the Ghost raised his hand and once more gave a flourished snap of his fingers. Abby looked around her bedroom, frowning slightly as she sank onto the edge of her bed. The Ghost moved forward and sat beside her, resting his hands on his knees.

“So - I take it there won’t be some huge revelation for the other Abigail, and everything that I just saw will still happen?” Abby asked after a moment.

“Yes, I suppose so,” the Ghost agreed. “Our sincerest apologies for the mix-up, I’m not sure it’s ever happened before. You were a good sport about it, though, so I’ve been authorized to give you a little pick-me-up.”

“A little what?”

The Ghost smiled and reached for her with two fingers, tapping them against her forehead. “You’ll wake up feeling rested, since we sort of - kept you up all night,” he explained. He pushed himself to his feet and gave her a deep, extravagant bow. “Happy Satinalia, Abigail Henderson.”

“Happy Satinalia, suspiciously peppy Ghost who shows people their death,” Abby returned. When he caught her eye with a skeptical eyebrow raised she shrugged and laughed. “Have fun haunting people or whatever it is you do the rest of the year.”

Rolling his eyes heavenward once more, the Ghost turned and walked away in a puff of purple smoke.

Abby finally climbed back in bed, pulling the sheets up over her head and passing into slumber as soon as she closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

A groan sounded as the other side of the mattress dipped, and Abby’s eyes flew open. She rolled over and bounced up, feeling rested just as the Ghost of Satinalia Yet to Come had told her she would.

“Ry - Ry - what day is it? What day?” she asked cheerily, flinging herself over him and eagerly peering down into his face.

“I swear, Abigail, if you have a sprig of mistletoe in your hand again,” he groused.

“Whaaaat? I would - definitely _never_ do that,” she hurried to assure him even as she tucked the mistletoe she had hidden under her pillow back where she’d just grabbed it from. “Wait, wait - before you go to sleep -”

“Can’t we open presents later? I spent all night trying to find out how it was that an argument over chestnuts turned into an all out war over who was left out of a grandfather’s will and who ran over whose cat,” he muttered. He dragged his hand over his eyes, groaning again as he tried to snuggle into the bed and ignore her gaze. "I had to arrest three generations, I'm beat."

“It’s not about presents, although I’m dying to know what you got me,” she told him. Pressing a kiss to his cheek she lightly tapped him on the shoulder. “The craziest thing happened to me, you won’t believe it when I tell you -”

“Tell me later,” he mumbled.

“Ry, I need your help - I need to find someone. Come on, just a little bit more investigative work, Detective MacCallum, and then you can sleep all day,” she pleaded. “I promise.”

He peeked one bright blue eye open at her, taking in what she was sure had to be a slightly manic look on her face, and heaved a sigh. “Fine, you batty lass, if only because I know you won’t let me sleep otherwise.”

“You’re the best, Ry,” she purred, and showered him with kisses before clambering off the bed. “Come on, sleepy, hop to.”

“You’re testing me, aren’t you,” Rylen muttered, and when Abby glanced back at him she saw him staring heavenward, as if addressing the Maker himself.

It took hardly any time with the two of them working together, but by the time she had finished getting dressed she had the address and directions she needed. After kissing Rylen in thanks and listening to him grumble a bit more about what he’d done to deserve such a batty lass, she hurried out of the apartment.

Although not until after she had grabbed a full bottle of Mackay’s Epic Single Malt that had been intended for one of the holiday parties. She had a feeling it was going to come in handy.

Abby hailed a cab and gave the driver the address, watching as they drove through Hightown to the larger estates, happy at the sight of the promised snow beginning to fall. The cab stopped in front of a house that was large but not ostentatious, and after paying her fare and leaving a generous tip she hurried to the front door.

It even had a large metal knocker at its center, and Abby laughed for a moment before she used it to pound loudly on the wooden portal.

After almost a minute spent knocking, the door was yanked open and a familiar yet unknown face was before her.

“Yes?” Abigail Hendricks snapped. “What is it, what could you possibly want this early in the morning? I was sleeping -”

“Abigail Hendricks?” Abby interrupted with a cheery smile. “I’m Abigail Henderson, and we’ve never met, but - I think you should let me in. We have quite a lot to talk about.”

The woman frowned, staring at Abby incredulously for a moment before she shook her head. “Get lost.”

“I brought some aged Mackay’s, and trust me, you’re going to need some,” Abby continued, undaunted. “Give me a chance to tell you why I’m here. It might just change your life.”

Abigail Hendricks glanced between Abby and the proffered bottle of Mackay’s before she rolled her eyes and stepped back. “Fine,” she snapped.

“Excellent,” Abby said as she stepped into the large house. “Nothing like making new friends on Satinalia.”

“Bah humbug,” the other Abigail groused as she closed the door behind them with a final snap.


End file.
